Working
by EriRapp
Summary: Quatre breaks up with Trowa. Trowa wants to know why. Miscommunication. 3x4 Trowa/Quatre and prompt-based.


**Author's Note: **Written for y!gal's 30 Forbidden Fruits club prompts #1 (bitter), and #7 (forever). Written for **fanficripples** challenge of using the song, "Check Yes Juliet" by We the Kings. Also written as a giftfic for Moreena and Krazylady343xxx of y!gal as thanks for a year of the 3x4x3 club. Started out as a drabble. Became. Less of a drabble. Unbetaed. Written from 11PM to 1AM, so might be odd occasionally. Hope you enjoy?

**Working**

"This isn't working, Trowa," Quatre's eyes were hard and unreadable as he quietly shook his head. "It isn't working, and it isn't going to work. It was never going to work, and we both knew it, and we should've seen this coming a long time ago." He kept the bitterness from his voice only barely, not wanting to say the words, hating himself for saying the words-- but what choice did he have? He had to do what was best for both of them. That was the meaning of love, wasn't it? Doing what was best? What would end up hurting Trowa the least in the end?

He tried to ignore the way Trowa's eyes glazed over with pain for a moment before only numbness remained, tried to ignore the way he wanted to crawl into Trowa's arms and ask for forgiveness. He didn't want to hurt Trowa, but what choice did he have? They'd never be left alone if they lived like this.

It was cold comfort to know this was necessary. No one should have to give up what they wanted, what they _needed_, Quatre viciously thought before pushing it away. This was what was necessary. This was what they needed. "We can't keep pretending--"

"Why are you saying this?" Trowa cut him off quietly with a soft bitterness the blonde was unaccustomed to hearing. "Is this what you want or is this what you think is right?" The soft questions didn't ask for an answer, didn't need one.

Quatre knew Trowa wasn't the type of person to rant and scream at him-- it would've been easier that way. It would've been simpler if Trowa threw back the broken promises so the blonde had to face them, had to admit he'd lied. He'd promised forever. He'd promised that they'd wait until the end of the war and then they'd be together and everything would be fine. He'd promised they'd be together forever.

It was a foolish promise then, and Quatre knew it the moment he said it. He'd been more idealistic, but he remembered. He knew it had been a bad idea, but Trowa simply smiled, and that smile warmed Quatre and for a moment they were away from the rest of the world. They existed only in that smile, that foolish promise. They'd be together forever.

Except they wouldn't. They couldn't be together forever because forever was a stupid idea in the first place. Forever didn't factor in companies and sisters and family.

Quatre didn't answer Trowa's questions. He sat there and numbed his heart to what his lover-- no, not his lover, not anymore-- asked, numbed himself to the pain and the bitterness woven into his voice. He'd never wanted to hear Trowa's voice like that, closed off. Quatre didn't follow Trowa when the taller man rose and left. He didn't move from the couch when he heard the rustling of clothes, the zipping of a suitcase. He didn't move when he heard the door close-- not slam, Trowa wouldn't slam the door-- and Trowa's car start.

He waited several minutes, pushing his own emotions away before reaching for the phone and calling Rashid. "It's done. Tell them he's gone."

...

Trowa drove. He didn't know how far he'd gone, all he knew was that his chest ached in an unfamiliar way and his eyes stung. The road blurred, and he pulled off to the side of the road. He wasn't going to do something foolish, no matter how badly he wanted to hurt someone, anyone at the moment.

Did Quatre really not want him? A pang of loneliness rose up inside Trowa-- he'd be alone again now that Quatre was sending him away. He'd never needed anyone before, never wanted anyone before, but Quatre... Quatre broke into his heart with that first plea for peace. He'd effortlessly embedded himself into Trowa's core and now it was over.

Or was it? Trowa considered the situation slowly, trying to puzzle it out. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe he was searching for a reason, an escape from the thought that Quatre wanted him gone. Maybe he wanted to find some truth in the nights they'd tangled together until they chased away the nightmares with their closeness. Maybe he was in denial. But even though he'd walked away in the midst of shock and disbelief, he didn't want to give up.

He wasn't going to give up until Quatre forcibly threw him out. Or told him explicitly to leave.

Turning the car back on, Trowa made a sharp u-turn, crossing the median and garnering several angry gestures in the process. He didn't care-- it was just important to get back there, to talk to Quatre-- though Trowa had no doubt that the door would be locked against him, given that he hadn't taken his house keys, figuring he wouldn't need them. A simple door wouldn't stop him. It couldn't.

Once he parked on the sidewalk and considered the mansion and its locked doors and high windows, Trowa began reconsidering that.

He could pick the lock. It wouldn't be difficult, but it likely wouldn't buy him any points with Quatre if the blonde truly _did_ want him gone at this point. Especially if Quatre was expecting to be left in peace.

Circling the mansion, Trowa glanced up at each window, trying to discern if any had been left open. Quatre was fastidious, yes, but if he'd forgotten even one, it might mean he'd been distracted. It would also be a safety issue and make Trowa frustrated and angry, but it would be _something_. None were open, and Trowa returned to the side of his car to consider the task before him.

It seemed he'd have to resort to more extreme measures.

Slipping towards the mansion again, Trowa gathered up a few stray stones from the path (with a mental apology to the staff who'd have to replace them) and climbed the tree nearest Quatre's window. He couldn't see directly inside because of the angle, but he _could_ see enough to know the light was on. Quatre was still awake, even though the sun had set hours ago while Trowa was sitting in his car on the side of the road.

Trowa tossed the first stone at the window as lightly as he could and watched as it soared through the air and shattered the glass.

...

Ever since Trowa's car drove away, Quatre felt a numbness take over his body. He didn't know what to think, how to react-- for the first time in the past year, Trowa was _gone _. He wasn't waiting somewhere for Quatre to come back, he was _gone_, and it was Quatre's fault.

He'd been receiving veiled-- and less than veiled-- threats from his sisters since he'd gotten together with Trowa about how this would ruin the company, ruin them, ruin _everything_, and he couldn't stand against them any longer. It was hard enough to deal with them when they were _happy_ with him, but this... this was personal, and he couldn't ask Trowa for help with it because it was _family_, and they wanted what was best for the company. Quatre couldn't begrudge them that.

So he'd done the only thing he could. He'd given in. He'd been stupid and weak and he hadn't fought hard enough for the one person he wanted. And now he was by himself, and he deserved whatever anger Trowa was probably directing at him.

Locking up the house-- with no Trowa to help him, to smile and tease when he couldn't reach the top windows by himself-- had been torture, but it was necessary. It was a reminder. He'd made his choice. Now he had to deal with the consequences. He'd go to bed alone tonight, but tomorrow he'd be fine, he'd go to the meetings with his sisters and suffer through their smiles and remember that this was his choice.

The stone smashing through his window shocked Quatre out of his misery. The blonde stared at it, half-expecting an angry message to be tied to the rock before turning his gaze to the hole in his window. Someone wasn't going to be happy about the broken glass, but there was a Trowa-shaped shadow in the tree outside, and it wasn't running away.

Moving in a daze, Quatre opened what remained of the window to get a better look at the shadow. "Trowa...?" he asked, his brain torn between returning to the frigid distance he'd summoned that first sent Trowa away and bawling and begging Trowa to come inside.

"Come with me for a drive, Quatre," Trowa's voice floated to him quietly. "We should talk about this."

It was a bad idea. A very bad idea. But Quatre was tired of listening to what he needed to do for his family. One more night couldn't hurt. One drive. "Fine." The reluctance in the word wasn't for the reasons Trowa might think, but it was still there. "I'll meet you downstairs." Trowa nodded before disappearing into the darkness of the tree.

Grabbing a jacket-- and one of Trowa's after a moment's thought, since the night was cold and Trowa hadn't taken one with him-- Quatre slipped it on. This was going to be difficult. But it was necessary, and Trowa deserved an explanation.

...

Waiting downstairs for Quatre tore Trowa up a little more. Pacing in front of the door, he waited, trying to ease the nerves surging through him. He hadn't felt this nervous about taking Quatre out since their first date (which was an utter catastrophe and ended with Trowa sincerely believing Quatre would never speak to him again). This time was different though-- there was no surety with this.

The door opened, and Quatre locked it behind him before he looked at Trowa. The avoidance hurt, but Trowa wasn't going to be dissuaded. He'd managed persuaded himself to go through with this, and he'd see it through. No matter what. Until Quatre told him specifically to get out of his life...

If that happened, Trowa would have to figure out what to do.

"I brought you a jacket. I figured you'd be cold," Quatre offered it to Trowa, and the brunette felt like a fool. Yes. He'd forgotten. He hadn't exactly been thinking, but still. This wasn't how he wanted to start the night.

"Thank you," Trowa took the jacket and slipped it on before leading Quatre to his car. Now came the hard part. Trowa didn't know where he was going to take his blonde-- yes, his, his until Quatre forced him away, damnit. He just wanted to spend time with Quatre, find out what was going on and why he'd been sent away.

Quatre got in the car silently, still not looking at anything but the floor. Starting the car, Trowa felt another pang of doubt. There was no sign Quatre wanted to be here. No sign he wanted to see Trowa. Maybe this was a terrible mistake. It wouldn't be the first time Trowa misread a situation.

They drove in silence for a while before Trowa parked on a hilltop. They'd come here together once, spread a blanket out and had a sunset picnic. They'd spent all night close together, holding each other and staring at the stars until the tiny pinpricks of light disappeared by the light of the rising sun.

"I remember this place," Quatre admitted, breaking the quiet between them. "I always thought we'd come back."

Trowa nodded, turning off the car and looking at Quatre slowly. "We're here now."

"What did you want to talk about?" Quatre shook his head as if shaking away the memories.

Taking a long breath to steady himself, Trowa chose his words carefully. "Did you mean it? That you think we can't work it out?"

Quatre didn't answer immediately. Finally, he looked out at the city through the windshield. "I can't put up with it anymore."

...

Quatre saw the flash of pain out of the corner of his eye before he realized what he'd said. Trowa thought he meant he couldn't put up with _Trowa_ anymore. But it was better if Trowa thought that, wasn't it? Then this could all be over and Quatre could return to his charade of life and Trowa could find a life with someone who wasn't tied down by family and responsibility and duty.

"I see," Trowa commented quietly, masking his emotions quickly. "I wasn't aware you felt that way."

"It's not that!" Quatre blurted out suddenly, feeling his heart sink again. "I just-- I meant..." He took a deep breath to compose himself. "My sisters. They don't approve. They think it's bad for the company for us to be involved. They've been talking to me about it practically since we got together, and I can't put up with them hounding me anymore..."

He felt miserably weak. He couldn't stand up to his sisters because they were _family_, but he didn't know if Trowa would understand. As important as Trowa was, family ranked highly. But that wasn't an excuse to hurt anyone like this, to lie and hide the truth.

Silence filled the car for a long moment before Trowa turned to him, reaching across the distance between them to turn Quatre's face so their eyes met. "You didn't tell me about them."

"I didn't want to worry you, and I thought I could change their minds, and--"

"But you didn't tell me about them."

Quatre shook his head mutely.

"Do you want me, Quatre?"

Finding himself nodding before he could think to control his reactions, Quatre swallowed hard. Trowa's voice was unreadable, and Quatre couldn't figure out what the brunette wanted to hear.

"If it weren't for your sisters pressuring you, would you have told me all those things?"

Shaking his head again, Quatre bit his lip miserably.

Trowa remained silent for a long moment, not looking away before he closed the distance with a kiss. Melting into the contact, Quatre moaned softly as Trowa's tongue gently brushed over the abused bottom lip before disappearing, the kiss breaking. The blonde resisted the urge to pout-- that wasn't going to help the situation.

"What would convince your sisters that this isn't a bad idea then?"

"I don't know," Quatre admitted after steadying himself with a deep breath. _But I don't want to lose you. I don't._

Quiet again, Trowa ran his thumb over Quatre's cheek, caressing. "Are you willing to let me help work it out?"

"Yes, but, I told them you were gone--"

"So, I'll be gone when they're around," Trowa shrugged, never breaking their gaze. "If that's all right with you?"

Quatre closed the gap between them this time.

**End note: **So... I kind of like this 'verse for them and am likely to write more of these two like this. Just a warning.


End file.
